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I walked from the carpeted dining room, across the tiled kitchen, straight to the refrigerator. I opened the door and saw the light go on inside. I took out the orange juice and poured myself a glass. I put the glass of orange juice on the counter and walked over to the refrigerator again. I opened the door. The light went on. I shut the door. I paced to the carpeted dining room and walked back to the refrigerator. I opened the door. The light went on. I shut the door. Quickly, I opened it again. The light went on. Opened. Closed. Quickly. I kept doing it. The light stayed on. I grabbed my orange juice and walked back to the carpeted dining room.

I sat in the wooden chair and flicked the light switch a few times. On. Off. On. Off. On again. The light changed. A bulb became bright, and in a split second the light became a bulb. I sipped my orange juice. The juice was cool and yellow. I held my glass up to the light and observed the differences between the light and the juice. The colors were alike. It was as if orange juice was light. I finished the glass, and turned off the light.

I walked across the dining room carpet back to the tiled kitchen. I washed the glass. There was no towel to dry it. I let it sit on the counter. The counter collected a ring of water around the bottom of the glass. I lifted the glass and wiped the water off the counter with my sleeve. I put the glass back down and again a small moat formed around the glass. I lifted the glass and wiped off the water with my other sleeve. I tossed the glass into the sink and walked to the refrigerator.

I opened the refrigerator. The light was on. I don’t think it ever turns off. I took out a bag of carrots. They were orange. I left the refrigerator door open. I stared at the light. The light was white. The dining room kitchen light was yellow. There was a difference. I shrugged this off and bit into a carrot. The light in the refrigerator stayed on. I put the bag of carrots back in and shut the door. I paced to the carpeted dining room and back across the tiled kitchen to the refrigerator. I opened the door. The light went on. I shut the door. Quickly, I opened it again. The light went on. The light was always on.

I left the door open and walked across the tiles to the carpeted dining room. I sat in a chair. I stared at the refrigerator and flicked the dining room light on and off. Lights always go on and off. The refrigerator should be no different. I turned off the dining room light and walked back across the tiled floor of the kitchen to the refrigerator. The light was on. I shut the door. I opened the door. The light was on. I took out a bag of carrots, broccoli, and other vegetables. I took out the orange juice and the apple juice. I took out milk, cheese, and other dairy products. I took out the leftover food from the days and weeks before. I left the door open. The light was on. I carried these things across the tiled kitchen and placed them on the dining room table.

I walked the tiles back to the refrigerator. I shut the door. I opened the door. The light was on. I left the door open and walked to the dining room. I sat on a wooden chair and flicked the dining room light on and off. The bulb was bright, and then a bulb again. Light. Nothing. Light. Nothing. Light. I got up and walked back to the refrigerator. I shut the door. I opened the door. The light was on. I shut the door. I paced the tiled kitchen four times. I walked to the carpet and back. Carpet and back. Carpet and back. Carpet and back.

I opened the refrigerator. The light was on. I took out the racks and placed them on the tiled floor. I took out the small doors inside the refrigerator. I placed them on the floor. I left the door open. I carried the racks and small doors to the dining room table. I placed them there. I sat in a chair and flicked the dining room light on and off. I got up. I walked across the tiles to the refrigerator door.

I shut the door. I opened the door. The light was on. I shut the door and paced back to the carpeted dining room, and back across the tiled kitchen. I opened the door. The light was on. I shut the door and paced back to the carpeted dining room. I sat in a chair and flicked the dining room light on and off. I paced back to the refrigerator. I opened the door. The light was on. I stepped inside. I shut the door. It was too dark inside to tell if the light was on or not.